profiterole perfection

When I was a girl my mother would always make such wonderful food, as every mother does and should, I'd say.

At birthdays she would always pull some culinary treats out of the bag (or the oven as the case may be). We always got to choose a cake. I'd always ask for a profiterole cake. Profiterole cake perfection.

Now when you picture this you must put out of your mind the image of some supermarket profiterole effort. This doesn't get you close to the sticky, rich delights of my mothers dark and indulgent cake. It was a winner, year after year.

I can make choux pastry now. Not thanks to Sheena, oh no. I learnt this one from an old neighbour. An old fifteen year old, 6ft 2inch, 15 year old boy neighbour who shared with me his home economics recipe. Thank god for that boy. Profiteroles are back in my life. 

Well that is, their recipe is enjoying a happy shelf life with my cookery books for the moment. Can't burn the calories like I used to. Not enough musical bumps, I suppose.